Never Going to Fit
by Lira is a Girl's Name
Summary: Worth contrives a classified delivery to get Lamont into his clinic, proceeds to talk as if he's in a deliveryman porno to provoke a fight, and thereby obtains every last thing he wanted. Lamont may still be confused. Lamont/Worth. Disturbing content.


AN: This was written for a little contest on ygal, which is now over. The host of the contest wanted some really brutal, violent, bloody Lamont/Worth, and I did my damn best to comply. This therefore has some disturbing fucking shit going on, so please be warned of that, even if I won't describe exactly what you're about to read ahead of time. This also contains some pretty conniving Worth, so do try and figure out what he was trying to do. As always, Hanna is Not a Boy's Name belongs to the marvelous Tessa Stone, and I am, well, essentially shitting in her sandbox, but I do it with the utmost of love. No offense is meant and no profit is being made.

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NEVER GOING TO FIT

-by: Lira-

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A knock on the door.

The entrance to Worth's practice was not especially secure. It had a deadbolt and two smaller locks, but if he didn't want to be getting off his ass every time someone tried to come in, securing them was more than just the slightest bit inconvenient. No one knocked. All one had to do was bump against the door hard enough and they'd fall through the portal to the linoleum just inside.

Worth slouched out from behind his desk, swaggering over. A knock meant one thing only. Worth opened the door.

Lamont was on the other side, a disgruntled expression on his face and a bulky box in his arms. There were a number of stickers plastered over it, proclaiming "FRAGILE" and "HANDLE WITH CARE" and "DO NOT OPEN WITHOUT EXPRESS PERMISSION FROM THE CO-SIGNED." It also had "THIS WAY UP" scrawled upon the side facing Worth in sharpie, although no arrows were present to indicate which side, exactly, was supposed to be up.

"That a package fer me, Mont?" Worth asked, leaning against the door frame.

In response to Worth's leer, Lamont's expression darkened into more of a scowl. He hefted the package once, but the broadness of it proved adjusting to be futile, and the thing merely remained in the vicinity of Lamont's crotch. Worth could see Lamont's fingers tightening their hold around its edges.

"Looks awfully... Large," Worth continued, needing all of his limited self-control to keep from laughing. "I take it Ah've gotta sign fer it?"

Typically Worth's deliveries were "off the records." He didn't pay Lamont anything for half the stuff, and he certainly didn't sign any papers.

"Ah'll just letcha inside, why doan' I?" Worth asked, using his foot to kick the door open wider.

Lamont started to edge by Worth with the package, but halfway through the motion he shoved the box right at Worth's chest, so hard that Worth stumbled back a couple steps. This enabled him to slam the door shut behind him and round on Worth. Worth was clutching onto the box because fuck Lamont, he couldn't afford to drop this shit and having the merch all shook up.

"Is anyone already in here bleeding out?" Lamont asked, rubbing his hands on the sides of his pants and glancing around.

"I think yer breakin' script, Mont," Worth told him, still trying to get a grip that was comfortable on the box.

"I wasn't told there was a script," Lamont said. "Just like I wasn't told what the fuck is in this box. Someone didn't send you a package bomb as a thank you for the great work you did, did they?"

Worth had to stop a moment to think about that, which called forth a brief look of horror from Lamont.

"You aren't supposed to think about that!" Lamont exclaimed. He shoved Worth so that he stumbled farther into the room, nearly dropping the box again in the process. "Tell me no one's going to blow up this place while I'm in it!"

"Don't worry," Worth said carelessly. "If somthin's gunna blow, it ain't gunna be that box."

Lamont hauled back and punched Worth in the face.

"Fuck, shit," Worth muttered, snapping his head back so that a gobbet of blood flew free from his nose. He maintained his hold on the box, but barely. "Lemme put the fuckin' box down."

Lamont made a show of stepping off to one side, like he was being a gentleman, except the fact that he was cracking his knuckles at the same time ruined the effect. Worth nudged the box down on the floor next to the door, where it would hopefully be out of the way for the next stretch of time.

Worth was just standing up when Lamont swung his fist towards him, getting Worth right in the gut.

The breath Worth took rattled in his lungs like a wheeze, but as he straightened the rest of the way he jerked his knee up to slam Lamont in the groin. Before Worth's leg could descend, Lamont caught him behind the knee with his off-hand, tugging Worth off-balance. Worth gave an angry yell, grabbing Lamont's shirt front so that they both tumbled over onto the floor.

Worth hit first, hard enough to knock the wind out of him if Lamont's punch hadn't done it already. Lamont landed on top of him, except he knew to catch himself on his knees instead of falling flat on his face. He held himself over Worth with an ugly, eager expression on his face, like he was just asking for violence and if he didn't get it he'd damn well make it himself.

Worth went to knee Lamont again, but Lamont saw it coming and slammed his own knee down against the inside of Worth's leg. Worth compensated with his own punch to the side of Lamont's face. Worth could see Lamont's teeth clamp down on the inside of Lamont's cheek, and then Lamont spat out in Worth's face so that Worth could taste the saliva and the blood.

"Want me ter kiss it an' make it better?" Worth asked.

Lamont slams his elbow down into Worth's nose, the crunch of bone grinding against bone loud enough for both to hear. Worth can swear it's a move Lamont has stolen from him, and he grabs onto the side of Lamont's neck with one hand. He pulled one leg up beside Lamont, hooking his ankle behind Lamont's knee. Using that leverage Worth jerked Lamont over, fingers digging into Lamont's flesh as he slammed the man's shoulder into the linoleum. Worth then swung his leg over Lamont, resting his ass on Lamont's upper thighs and putting his weight there. He might be a skinny fucker, but it's enough to pin Lamont for the moment.

"Yer way off script, Mont," Worth jeered. The fingers of both of his hands were wrapped around Lamont's neck, digging in hard as Worth could squeeze.

"Fuck," Lamont gasped out, having a bit of trouble with Worth's thumbs digging in to his trachea.

Worth didn't think about it when he was looking for an opening for a punch, but now that he's had a moment to breath he's aware of the hard-on confined by the front of his pants. Leaning forward to grab Lamont harder rocks his hips forward into Lamont, and after the first time Worth does that he does it again, more deliberately. Fuck, he told Lamont something was going to blow. All that was left to be seen was whether it was him or Lamont first.

"If I put summin' else there," Worth began, turning the fingers around Lamont's neck into more of a caress, albeit still one that is cutting off most of the man's air. "Yeh gonna bite me?"

The way Lamont bares his teeth reads as "yes."

Worth's hands crept up from Lamont's neck to his face, the brief reprieve spurring Lamont into an attempt at jerking himself upwards. Worth thrust Lamont's head back down into the linoleum so that he can see Lamont's eyeballs roll back for a second, following it up by creeping his thumbs into the sides of Lamont's mouth. Lamont's teeth were just slightly parted from the way his head was jarred, and Worth shoved his thumbs between them, opening Lamont's mouth enough so that he can just peer down Lamont's throat.

Lamont tried to bite down on Worth, but the slight grind of teeth against his knuckles was not enough to distress him. Worth could tell Lamont was trying to say something, but any words were too badly garbled by his own fingers prodding at Lamont's cheeks from the inside and pressing down on Lamont's tongue to hold it in place.

To anyone else, the imprint of a man's teeth along the bones of their fingers might have discouraged them from trying to fuck that man's mouth. Worth, however, was shoving his fingers back into the vicious caress of teeth, forcing Lamont to bite down harder or deal with Worth's hands trying to shove their entirety past Lamont's lips. Worth liked the feel of molars against his joints, liked the low ache that was starting to form around those delicate bits of anatomy. Worth wasn't deterred by a little biting.

Worth had to yank one hand free in order to go for his belt, had to compensate by thrusting his fingers in as well and struggling to hold Lamont's mouth as he wanted it. The belt he yanked free after unbuckling it, the slide of leather whipping through belt loops audible in the room. Worth considered placing it within easy reach of Lamont, in the hope that Lamont might feel inspired once Worth had stopped holding his attention quite so completely. Worth fumbled the button and then the zip, able to judge the time he was wasting as Lamont bit him harder, as if Lamont wanted him to do this and just thought he was taking too fucking long.

Worth yanked himself free of his pants, edging up Lamont's body with his dick in his hand lest Lamont try to make a last bid for freedom. He tilted forward so his knees were on Lamont's shoulders, his legs crushing Lamont's arms in hopes of holding him there. He could feel Lamont bending his legs somewhere behind Worth, knew from experience that Lamont could throw him off if Lamont timed it right. But by that point it didn't matter. By that point his dick was throbbing in his hand, enjoying too much the lingering throbbing from all of the hits Lamont had landed.

"Got a delivery, Mont," Worth grunted, because just then, to him, it was hilarious.

Worth's fingers slid against the roof of Lamont's mouth as he spread his hand enough to create a passageway. He canted his hips forward, the hand on his dick pushing himself downward, so that the head of his dick was only just grazed by Lamont's teeth as he thrust it past. That much pressure was barely a love bite to his fingers, but the scrape of teeth against his dick was enough to send a faint shudder through Worth, so that his hips jerked forward and he did his unconscious best to strangle Lamont.

"Sorry Mont," Worth muttered, although they both knew he didn't mean it at all.

It was more like victory, since Worth could jerk himself back, edge himself back along sharp ridges that would not deny him, that would produce the sparks of pain that Worth found so gratifying. Worth could see Lamont watching him from between his thighs, could tell that Lamont was still angry and would still happily bite him, were it not for Worth's three fingers wedged in Lamont's cheek in such a way that wouldn't let Lamont close his mouth that hard. Worth rocked his hips in small motions, not out of consideration for choking Lamont, but because it was easier to thrust himself against Lamont's teeth that way.

As Worth continued he grew careless, allowing his fingers to slide free from Lamont's mouth. Worth's hands went to Lamont's hair instead, another place where he could grab hold tight and yank Lamont's head back, could change the angle of Lamont's throat with a little pulling. The head of Worth's dick slid against Lamont's tongue, the sensation in counterpoint to those teeth clamping down harder than before. Worth wouldn't stop just because Lamont was biting him hard, wouldn't ease back instead of choking Lamont's airway with his length. It was too easy to rock his hips forward and back, forward and back, the slide becoming if anything easier.

Worth realized Lamont wasn't biting him any more.

It was perhaps less rewarding for Worth now that the pain had been removed, and he perhaps knew that Lamont would retaliate in some fashion at the earliest convenience, but the grip of Lamont's throat was still too much to give up. When Lamont wanted to he could flex the muscles just so, swallowing down and down with a sensation that was nigh unbearable, a clench that wouldn't let Worth go until every last drop of his release had been wrung from him.

Worth didn't know if the thoughts summoned the thing, or if he could be that fucking superstitious, but at that point he was no longer even thrusting his hips. Lamont was doing all the work, and the tension in Worth's legs as he endeavored to hold Lamont down began to ease. Worth perched there precariously, dick caught and small sounds of pleasure dribbling from between his lips. He couldn't think about whether Lamont was doing it on purpose, whether Lamont's retaliation began with hooking itself into Worth's balls and yanking them out through his dick when he came.

Worth couldn't really think of anything at that point, hips only bucking enough to facilitate the motion of Lamont's throat that felt like eating him alive. He couldn't tell if the look in Lamont's eyes was calculating, or vengeful, or if maybe he just fucking liked doing this once in a while and was getting his rocks off a bit, too. He couldn't give Lamont any sort of verbal warning, although his thighs closed together against Lamont's head when he came. Just enough to brace himself, his body shuddering forward with the force of his orgasm.

Fuck, Lamont was still good.

Lucidity came back quickly, and Worth jerked his softening dick out of Lamont's mouth before Lamont could decide that biting it off entirely was a good plan of action. Many years had taught Worth to be plenty fucking suspicious now, because he had just become the one at a disadvantage, no matter how things might look to an outsider. It was Lamont's turn to play hardball.

Worth was no longer in any way braced, and when Lamont simply twisted his torso he was able to tip Worth over. Lamont quickly pinned Worth next, and Worth was almost impressed to see that his belt was already in Lamont's grasp. Lamont was cocky enough to release one arm, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"You still taste like shit, Luce," Lamont said.

Worth actually laughed.

"I'd punch you in the face, but you'd like that too much," Lamont added.

Worth didn't bother trying to deny it.

Lamont's hand went from his mouth to his crotch, undoing the fastenings on his pants faster than Worth had done. Worth couldn't see Lamont pull his dick out of his pants, but he knew it had happened, could tell that it was throbbing and pulsing in the open on faith. The front of Worth's pants was still open, and Worth hadn't been able to tuck himself back inside. Lamont ignored that, using one hand alone to wrest Worth's pants out of the way. Worth made two attempts to get free, testing Lamont, but both were responded to with Lamont slamming Worth's limbs back into the linoleum. It didn't even hurt bad enough to feel good.

"You want me to tie your hands Luce?" Lamont asked, words coming quick and angry. "You want me to hit something with this?"

"Fuck, Mont," Worth gasped. "Only if yeh think yeh kin make it hurt enough."

Lamont snorted, and there was the sound of leather slicing through air as Lamont held the belt up in front of Worth's face, the buckle between his thumb and forefinger. While Worth watched, Lamont flicked the buckle so that the stay was sticking straight up in contrast to his hand.

"How about I shove this down your urethra?" Lamont suggested. "It's probably only met every kind of grime known to man."

"Yer gunna give me a fuckin' urinary track infection," Worth objected, although he knew he didn't sound angry enough. "Or otherwise fuckin' poison me."

"You've probably given me bruises on the inside and the outside of my throat," Lamont returned, even as he idly flicked the bit of metal back and forth against his finger. "Even trade?"

"Fuckin' hell it's not even trade!"

"Something else I could do with this?" Lamont asked, stretching the length of the belt out between two hands. "Anything?"

Worth didn't say anything.

Worth didn't have to. Lamont held the expanse of leather taut between his hands before resting it against the length of Worth's neck. By that point Lamont had a bit of an evil smile on his lips, the sort of look that told Worth Lamont didn't care if he was a fucking masochist. Lamont was going to enjoy pressing marks into him whether the yells Worth would try to make were from honest pain or his usual twisted pleasure.

Worth could feel the edge of the belt starting to cut into his throat, enough for the first sweet kiss of pain but not enough to start interfering with his airway. Lamont pressed harder. Lamont was leaning forward so far, his expression intent but still vicious, his face so close that Worth probably could have kissed him if he tried.

"You like it?" Lamont asked, voice going low and deadly and yes it sounded like Lamont was liking it too. "But if I'm doing this how am I ever going to fuck you?"

Worth couldn't really answer, seeing as half of his air was cut off by his own fucking belt.

And then Worth could feel the leather sliding against his flesh, and he realized Lamont was sliding the free end under his neck around the back. He could feel the tip of the leather skating against his skin and then free, so that Lamont held one end in each of his hands and Worth's own body held it in place. With quick deft motions Lamont threaded the belt through the buckle, pulling it tight so fast that it made another fate-clenching sound. That fast and then the leather was tight against his neck again, except now Worth could also feel the metal of the buckle snug against his skin.

"I'd ask you if it's tight enough," Lamont said. "Except I don't think you can talk."

Lamont yanked the free end back, and the motion jerked Worth's head up from the floor. Lamont took a moment then, seeming to judge the action, and then yanked once more.

"I think we're good," he told Worth. "Next time you should make a hole for this girth. The exact girth of your neck. I think you'd better measure; we wouldn't want it to be too small."

Lamont then took hold of the belt-tail with one hand and his dick with the other, so Worth could only wonder how Lamont's body was reacting to everything. Lamont had spat in his hand in a casual way, as if he didn't care much about what he was doing. He then stroked himself a few times, and Worth knew that Lamont only wanted things slicked enough so he wouldn't chafe the next day. Lamont wouldn't give a flying fuck how Worth fared.

Lamont shoved in without preamble, not a single thought for whether or not Worth's body would take it. The answer was yes, of course it was yes, they'd gone through the motions enough times that always in the future it would be yes. But it still hurt like fucking burning, like a violation even though Worth and Lamont always read the beginning of a fight as consent. They both knew Worth rather liked it that way, liked Lamont's thrusts to be hard and deep even if they rubbed his insides raw, liked it better that way, liked it if he would remember this three days from now whether he liked that memory or not.

Whether Lamont was obliging for himself or for Worth was up for debate. The hand on the belt-tail jerked Worth's head up every so often, so Worth could watch, the strain on Worth's neck something liable to cause him some problems in the future. The excruciatingly painful vantage point allowed a peek between their bodies, where Lamont's flesh was disappearing into Worth's flesh over and over at a considerable pace. Lamont grunted in time with his thrusts, a guttural sound that spoke of his exertion more than his pleasure.

Worth was quiet, in part because to release sound with the belt snug around him was too much fucking work.

Worth knew when Lamont was getting close because the quality of the sounds changed, even if the thrusts kept coming at a perfectly even rhythm. Lamont was too good to break stride, too much of a fucking perfectionist at sex – whether he knew it or not – to let himself slow down or jerk his hips out of time. But his grunts lengthened into proper moans, coming out as if they'd been wrung from his vocal cords, drawn out of him like tongs fastening to his tongue and pulling hard. Worth couldn't help arching up into him, like muscle memory, never mind that he hadn't gone fully hard again himself.

Lamont yanked the belt to the side hard before he came, snapping Worth's neck in a way that even he couldn't entirely like. Lamont was panting above him and Worth could still feel the thrusts, just little jerks forward over and over until Lamont was finally spent. For another minute Lamont held himself over Worth, the hand around the belt strap clutched so tight it was probably making an imprint. Then, without a single word, Lamont began to undo the belt from around Worth's neck.

When Lamont was done with the belt Worth sat up, and Lamont didn't shove him or punch him or otherwise react at all. Worth was breathing a bit hard, probably more from being able to get air in properly again than because of their activities. The recovery period was as familiar as the feel of Lamont's dick pressing into him, and Worth glanced away at the box that was still thrust against the wall near the door. Fuck, Lamont probably didn't even know what he'd gotten so angry over. Couldn't know.

"Did you forget about your script yet?" Lamont asked, so stupidly calm, and Worth saw that he already had his pants back on right.

"Fuck, Mont, I doan' know if they'd want this in jus' any fuckin' porno," Worth replied, uncomfortably easing his pants back to where they were supposed to be. The belt was a bit much to bother with just then.

"There are easier ways to get laid," Lamont said.

"Easier's fer chumps," Worth said, with a bit less vehemence than he would have liked.

"Are you going to tell me what was in the fucking box, or do I have to black out one of your eyes?" Lamont asked.

"Izzat a threat or a promise?" Worth asked back, with a bit of a leer.

"I'll just open it myself," Lamont said, shaking his head and standing so that he could grab the thing.

Lamont was kind enough to drag the box back where they could both reach it, and to produce some box cutters. With a few deft movements he had the thing open, and then Worth was lifting the flaps so the two of them could see the insides.

"The fuck..." Lamont started to say, once he'd gotten a good look. "There's a reason here, isn't there? A reason why you couldn't just tell me what the fuck you wanted and had to send in a fucking invoice, probably with my signature forged."

"Ah've bin able t'forge yer signature since we were in high school," Worth muttered, without much care. He was gently sifting through the contents.

Inside the box were a large quantity of experimental steroids, more human growth hormone than could ever be used for something good, at least a hundred jumbo sized condoms, a great deal of morphine, and what Worth knew to be actual embryonic stem cells.

"I could have gotten you the condoms and the morphine myself," Lamont muttered, sounding peeved.

Lamont seemed a bit too dazed by the rest of the contents to even ask.

After Worth had spent a happy amount of time stroking the packaging for his stem cells, Lamont finally found his tongue once again.

"Luce. Do I even want to know what you need embryonic stem cells for? And growth hormones? And steroids?"

"Prob'ly not," Worth said, a bit too cheerfully.

"Do I want to inform some form of authorities or perhaps the government that you are in possession of these things?" Lamont asked instead.

"Doan' do that either," Worth said, flapping a hand at Lamont in irritation. "Aye need a few runes from Hanna, is all."

Worth followed that up by getting to his feet, taking the lot of his recently acquired loot over to the freezers. With a happy efficiency, he began storing away everything that had been contained within the box. Truthfully there was nothing horrible he could do with the assembled ingredients, even if Hanna consented to draw him the runes he wanted. Worth merely enjoyed having Lamont off his game trying to put together the pieces of a puzzle that was never going to fit.


End file.
